(no subject)
013102
My boss has been an insufferable prick lately. He's been working on some Complicated Project that requires more than one hand, but he's been doing it alone, because he doesn't want anyone else to learn the mysteries and awful secrets he carries around in his brain about our woefully outdated computer system. After all, if he alone carries the key to the maze, he is assured of keeping his job.
He's had his office door shut all week long, emerging from his lair long enough to piss, make copies, get reports, and glare at everyone.
I had to make sure all the employees got all the information about the Complicated Project. My boss talked about it three weeks ago at our quarterly meeting, but no one really pays attention to anything said at the quarterly meeting, since the quarterly meeting exists so that the rank and file can be told "we're doing okay!" and then eat doughnuts.
I called my boss yesterday and said, "Boss, I need to ask you three questions about the Complicated Project."
He sighed exasperatedly.
"First, when does it kick in?"
"Oh, search results," he said disgustedly. "I can't believe you're asking me this."
I was silent.
He sucked his teeth. "February first."
I thought, "You fat bastard! It starts in two days and TODAY you asked me to come up with a two page training memo for the employees?" I asked him, "Okay, and how many blah blah blah for X, and how many blah blah blah for Y?"
He got mad. "I don't believe this! I shouldn't have to tell you that! Don't you have my memo?"
Dick.
I took a deep breath. "I don't have any information on this Complicated Project. I must have misplaced your memo, which happens VERY INFREQUENTLY with me," I said, nastily.
Excruciatingly patiently, as if he were talking to a not very bright toddler, he said, "X gets blah blah blah, Y gets blah blah blah."
"Okay."
"I want to see that training memo when you're done with it."
I asked around. "Did Boss ever issue us any kind of memo about the Complicated Project?"
No. He did not. All anyone knew about it was what Boss said at the quarterly meeting and my follow up cubicle visit three weeks ago, when I had no information other than what the Complicated Project was.
Asswipe.
I began my memo with "On 2/1/02, we will blah blah blah." It was very explicit, it was really easy to read, and any moron could understand it.
When I took it to my boss, he sniffed. "2/1/02? Are you sure they will understand that? Shouldn't you write 'February 1, 2002' instead?"
I'm sure the look on my face betrayed my urge to scream "EAT SHIT", but my words said, "I think they'll get it." I hope I rolled my eyes.
Every sentence in my memo was wrong. He rewrote the entire thing, with me quietly watching. He took out his pencil and crossed out or added a note to EVERY. FUCKING. SENTENCE. Stupid notes, like adding unnecessary adjectives, or telling me to use a larger font here, boldface there. He always goes over my memos, the ones I tell him about, anyway, with a fine toothed comb, picking out imaginary lice, and I recognize the habit as a manifestation of his superiority complex and I don't let it bother me, usually. In the middle of his frenzied editing, he said, "Do you think we should use my memo?"
"Maybe we should," I agreed, because it would make my life a whole lot easier.
He pulled out a file and rummaged around in it. He produced a transparency, the one he used at the meeting three weeks ago. "Can we copy this?"
"Oh, sure. All I have to do is attach it to a blank piece of paper."
His transparency was a trailer to my full length feature film. It was also proof that he never gave me any information to use. I damn near giggled.
He held it up to the light. "No, we'll use this." He tapped my memo. "Just make the changes, and give me a copy."
Cornhole.
Later that day I had to ask him a question unrelated to the Complicated Project. His office door was open, but I still deferentially knocked on his door. "Boss, are you terribly busy?"
He didn't look at me. "NO, search results, I'm sitting here PLAYING WITH MYSELF."
Jerk off.
I said, "Never mind," and walked away.
He called after me. I pretended not to hear him.
He got his fat ass out of his chair and followed me. "search results! What is it?"
I asked my question, he gave me an answer, and then rationalized his incredible rudeness by saying, "I'm very busy lately."
Fuckface.
Today I led another meeting with (mostly) people who outrank me. There were only five of us this time. We got our business done, then Mike, who is a level above me, used the last fifteen minutes of our allotted hour to bitch about what an asshole my boss has been.
And he HAS been.
I honestly like my boss. We have a very good relationship. He's probably the best boss I have ever had. I take his periods of assholery in stride, mainly because I have a high tolerance for pain. Most other people just kind of hate him.
I bitched about him with Mike, and it made me feel good. The other people were visibly uncomfortable, but Mike and I ranted and raved and cursed him bitterly.
Because of the relationship my boss and I have, I didn't censor myself at all. I know he knows he's been a dick, and if he heard I was bitching about him, he wouldn't confront me or hold it against me, because I know he knows he deserved it.
I love my job.
My boss has been an insufferable prick lately. He's been working on some Complicated Project that requires more than one hand, but he's been doing it alone, because he doesn't want anyone else to learn the mysteries and awful secrets he carries around in his brain about our woefully outdated computer system. After all, if he alone carries the key to the maze, he is assured of keeping his job.
He's had his office door shut all week long, emerging from his lair long enough to piss, make copies, get reports, and glare at everyone.
I had to make sure all the employees got all the information about the Complicated Project. My boss talked about it three weeks ago at our quarterly meeting, but no one really pays attention to anything said at the quarterly meeting, since the quarterly meeting exists so that the rank and file can be told "we're doing okay!" and then eat doughnuts.
I called my boss yesterday and said, "Boss, I need to ask you three questions about the Complicated Project."
He sighed exasperatedly.
"First, when does it kick in?"
"Oh, search results," he said disgustedly. "I can't believe you're asking me this."
I was silent.
He sucked his teeth. "February first."
I thought, "You fat bastard! It starts in two days and TODAY you asked me to come up with a two page training memo for the employees?" I asked him, "Okay, and how many blah blah blah for X, and how many blah blah blah for Y?"
He got mad. "I don't believe this! I shouldn't have to tell you that! Don't you have my memo?"
Dick.
I took a deep breath. "I don't have any information on this Complicated Project. I must have misplaced your memo, which happens VERY INFREQUENTLY with me," I said, nastily.
Excruciatingly patiently, as if he were talking to a not very bright toddler, he said, "X gets blah blah blah, Y gets blah blah blah."
"Okay."
"I want to see that training memo when you're done with it."
I asked around. "Did Boss ever issue us any kind of memo about the Complicated Project?"
No. He did not. All anyone knew about it was what Boss said at the quarterly meeting and my follow up cubicle visit three weeks ago, when I had no information other than what the Complicated Project was.
Asswipe.
I began my memo with "On 2/1/02, we will blah blah blah." It was very explicit, it was really easy to read, and any moron could understand it.
When I took it to my boss, he sniffed. "2/1/02? Are you sure they will understand that? Shouldn't you write 'February 1, 2002' instead?"
I'm sure the look on my face betrayed my urge to scream "EAT SHIT", but my words said, "I think they'll get it." I hope I rolled my eyes.
Every sentence in my memo was wrong. He rewrote the entire thing, with me quietly watching. He took out his pencil and crossed out or added a note to EVERY. FUCKING. SENTENCE. Stupid notes, like adding unnecessary adjectives, or telling me to use a larger font here, boldface there. He always goes over my memos, the ones I tell him about, anyway, with a fine toothed comb, picking out imaginary lice, and I recognize the habit as a manifestation of his superiority complex and I don't let it bother me, usually. In the middle of his frenzied editing, he said, "Do you think we should use my memo?"
"Maybe we should," I agreed, because it would make my life a whole lot easier.
He pulled out a file and rummaged around in it. He produced a transparency, the one he used at the meeting three weeks ago. "Can we copy this?"
"Oh, sure. All I have to do is attach it to a blank piece of paper."
His transparency was a trailer to my full length feature film. It was also proof that he never gave me any information to use. I damn near giggled.
He held it up to the light. "No, we'll use this." He tapped my memo. "Just make the changes, and give me a copy."
Cornhole.
Later that day I had to ask him a question unrelated to the Complicated Project. His office door was open, but I still deferentially knocked on his door. "Boss, are you terribly busy?"
He didn't look at me. "NO, search results, I'm sitting here PLAYING WITH MYSELF."
Jerk off.
I said, "Never mind," and walked away.
He called after me. I pretended not to hear him.
He got his fat ass out of his chair and followed me. "search results! What is it?"
I asked my question, he gave me an answer, and then rationalized his incredible rudeness by saying, "I'm very busy lately."
Fuckface.
Today I led another meeting with (mostly) people who outrank me. There were only five of us this time. We got our business done, then Mike, who is a level above me, used the last fifteen minutes of our allotted hour to bitch about what an asshole my boss has been.
And he HAS been.
I honestly like my boss. We have a very good relationship. He's probably the best boss I have ever had. I take his periods of assholery in stride, mainly because I have a high tolerance for pain. Most other people just kind of hate him.
I bitched about him with Mike, and it made me feel good. The other people were visibly uncomfortable, but Mike and I ranted and raved and cursed him bitterly.
Because of the relationship my boss and I have, I didn't censor myself at all. I know he knows he's been a dick, and if he heard I was bitching about him, he wouldn't confront me or hold it against me, because I know he knows he deserved it.
I love my job.